Hercules Black & The '78 Trans-Am of Death
by Hufflepunk
Summary: After the war, things got weird. Join Hercules Black, Samantha Clover, and Nymphadora Tonks on an inter-dimensional road trip to saved a doomed world! Obviously not epilogue compliant. Obviously.
1. Prologue: Okay, let's get started

In the beginning, there was nothing.

I'm already lying. I can hardly say it was the beginning. Concepts like 'beginning' or 'end' held no meaning, because there was nothing to begin and nothing to end. I'm not entirely sure this period earns the distinction of having such a thing as 'time'. It'd be more accurate to call it 'pre-time', but even that implies a time after, when no such thing could be said to exist.

I'm also lying about there being nothing. Really, everything was there, just as everything is here now, but at that non-point of time everything was looking and acting a whole lot like nothing. Ergo, while there was everything, for every effective purpose, there was nothing.

Okay, let's try again –

At some non-point in time, everything was very cunningly disguised as nothing. Then, in the non-everything, there was a thing: a grey 1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans-Am. A woman with steely-grey hair looked out from behind the steering wheel, a lit joint between her lips. Her eyes bugged out as she looked around and started coughing out smoke.

"Fuck," she choked out under her breath. She ashed her joint out the window and revved the engine.

The grey 1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans-Am was gone as suddenly as it arrived.

This was arguably the first event in the history of time, but what happened next was bound to happen eventually. Things now existed against the nothing – a few flakes of ash, the exhaust from the engine – and these things upset the uniformity that everything had attained. They were bumps and ridges against the entropy and, eventually, the inevitability of gravity drew more and more of the nothing around these things.

After an eternity, the nothing had shed its disguise and everything was there, clustered around those few things. Everything drew closer and tighter, until everything was stumbling over itself in its desire to be denser and smaller. Everything shrank and shrank, until there was just a single point – smaller and more final than the period at the end of this sentence.

I suspect you know what happens next. The story from here is commonly told – the Big Bang spread out everything again, very exciting things happened at the atomic level, gases formed, etc.

For our purposes, the next thing you should know about is the Second Wizarding War in Britain in the mid-'90s. For those not familiar with the events of the war, I would recommend the _Harry Potter_ series of books by J.K. Rowling. Don't worry, I'll wait for you to finish.

I applaud these books for their accuracy, though they do have an unfortunate oversight. Rowling, for reasons of her own, included an epilogue of an imagined 19 years after the events of the war. It smacks of sentimentality and an outdated desire for the nuclear family. Needless to say, reality was not quite so neat.

After the war, things got _weird._

* * *

_Sup. This is the prologue for my new story, which I'm gonna describe as a neon-soaked inter-dimensional road trip. At the moment, I am dedicated to making this as weird as possible, so fuckin' strap in._

_Edited! Slightly! Didn't like the crying woman. I didn't sleep well on it. _


	2. A Most Interesting Mission

It was a hot morning in London, the sort that drifts by once or twice a summer and turns the usually anxious and cranky populace sluggish and cranky instead. The streets were filled with loud and smelly cars adding to the oppressive heat, but the sidewalks were more or less empty. The few remaining pedestrians seemed to ooze instead of walk, tilting heavily and sighing in small relief with every shadow they happened across.

The pubs, however, were doing roaring business. It seemed the citizenry, as a whole, suspended their shame and decided that half-eleven wasn't too early for a frosty pint or three. Many of the unfortunate souls remaining on the street were, in fact, searching for such an establishment, but almost all of them walked straight by one specific little pub on Charing Cross. The pub in question was not much to look at – a small old building that seemed to be built into the alley, painted black with grimy windows. You could not blame many for choosing not to drink there, it did not look particularly inviting or clean, but it wasn't indifference that caused people to walk right by. It was, instead, the result of very cunning magic that separated Magical London from its mundane counterpart. Those without the gift of magic could not even see the pub.

The pub is the famous Leaky Cauldron, entrance to Diagon Alley – the epicenter of Wizarding Britain's commerce and trade, as well as headquarters to Gringott's Bank and the Daily Prophet.

One middle-aged man walking down Charing Cross, in contrary to the rest of the pedestrians, could see famous pub. He was distinctive, and many of those pedestrians would remark quietly on his appearance. He was wearing dark sunglasses and a heavy, black robe that was not only unsuited for such a hot day, but also made the man resemble a priest. He was of average height and had receding grey hair in a conservative cut. He walked quickly and with a distinct limp.

The man was also a peculiar type of ugly. The features that could be seen under the large dark sunglasses were symmetrical and not overly distinctive, and he was hygienic in dress and grooming. However, it appeared that these features were made of wax that had started to melt in the summer heat. His dark glasses prevented his eyes to be seen, but one young woman would say later, while recalling the bizarre man to her friends over sangria later that afternoon, that she could have sworn she saw something move behind the glasses – something far too large to be an eye.

It was, in fact, an eye. It was not, however, a natural eye, but a supernatural one, attached to a wizard named Alastor Moody. Everyone called him 'Mad-Eye', though, on account of aforementioned magical eye. It was twice the size of a regular eye and the pupil was a bright baby blue. It spun freely in its socket, unbothered by mundane concerns like optic nerves. No one except Moody knew the exact limits to the eye, Moody kept his secrets close to his chest, but it was commonly accepted it could see through any glamour or invisibility charm, as well as most materials. In contrast, Moody's other eye seemed almost like an afterthought. It was small, beady, and black as any shark's. The two eyes put together made him appear as perpetually inquisitive pirate, especially when combined with the scars that covered his body and the metal leg that replaced his old one.

None of this was apparent to those who saw Moody this morning in August. In fact, the reason for his unnatural, waxy appearance was because he was trying very hard _not_ to be himself. However, many of Moody's scars were caused by dark magic, and it is notoriously difficult to hide dark magic scars. And he could not hide the eye. It was one of the reasons Moody hated undercover work.

Moody had a fearsome appearance, one he carefully cultivated over years of working for the Ministry of Magic as an Auror – a sort of combination police officer and soldier specializing in combating dark wizards. Each scar was a lesson he didn't need to learn again, and every time he was wounded he came back stronger. When he lost his leg he replaced it with the most heavily enchanted hunk of metal this side of the Eiffel Tower. When he lost his eye he went and got the best replacement any one could ever imagine. And with each scar the legend of 'Mad-Eye' Moody grew and grew. And, thus, he had to disguise himself from time to time.

Besides, while his usual fearsome appearance was useful for extracting confessions out of dark wizards, it was much less useful for tailing a 12 year old kid.

Moody limped into The Leaky Cauldron and walked to the bar, while scanning the rest of the establishment with his enchanted eye. The Cauldron was much larger on the inside than it is on the outside, a common trait of many magical buildings. It was packed, unfortunately. This close to the new school term, many families were visiting Diagon Alley for their supplies. In addition the same heat-related malaise that had infected mundane London had infected the magical sector, despite cooling charms being covered in fourth year. Most of the tables were taken by groups of witches and wizards lazily chatting, a few in the darker corners blowing strange smoke from strange pipes, but Moody spied a few empty tables on the edges of the room, and a few doors into attached sections of the pub. He knew the Cauldron never filled up completely; there was old magic at work in the building.

He was about to grab one such table when he saw a young woman laughing and leaning over the bar. Many others had noticed said woman, as she was dressed like a muggle – a muggle being a non-magical person, and 'dressing like a muggle' is a euphemism for dressing provocatively in Magical Britain. She was wearing very tight black jeans and a low-cut crimson red top. Her hair, as well, was crimson red and was in a spiky pixie-cut. Moody growled a curse under his breath and altered his course to the empty stool beside the woman.

He sat down and tried to ignore the woman flirting with Tom, the ancient and toothless barkeep. He ordered a whiskey when Tom, ever the professional, ignored the attractive young woman in front of him to take his order. After Tom left to fulfil some other obligation, Moody slid his wand from its holster and cast a privacy charm around himself and the woman. The sounds of the pub around them faded from the two's ears and the woman turned on Moody furiously.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed.

"You were to be here in disguise," Moody said. "For Merlin's sake, stop looking at me."

"You were the one who sat down next to me," the woman said and turned so her back was to the bar. She scanned the bar room, catching a few embarrassed eyes. "And I am in disguise."

"Anyone with half a brain could figure out who you are," Moody said and took a sip of his whiskey.

The woman rolled her eyes and huffed. "What does it matter?" she asked. "As soon as the kid shows up, no one will be looking at me."

Moody growled and the woman swallowed unconsciously. "It matters because I say it matters," he said. "Go change. That's an order."

The woman's eyes flashed with defiance, but she nodded. "Yes sir," she said. "Drop the wards."

Moody nodded and his wand twitched again. The noise of the bar came back full force and the woman stood up and glared at him. "Pervert!" she yelled and slapped him across the face. The woman stomped out into mundane London amid titters of laughter and whispered comments.

Moody scowled and wondered what the hell he was going to do with Trainee Auror Nymphadora Tonks. The woman was talented and brave as all else. To watch her duel made him believe in the Auror Corps again for the first time since the war. In addition, she was a metamorphmagus, a magical person that could alter their appearance at will. It was a talent that was highly sought after in many professions, but Tonks decided to use it to fight dark wizards. Moody respected that. He did not respect the rest of her, though. She was often brash and disrespectful, and seemed to see much of the situations around her as a joke or a game. It made her unreliable, and he did not go into the field with unreliable people.

But his concerns were overlooked. Rufus Scrimgeour, Head Auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had decided that protecting Harry Potter was a perfect mission to give Trainee Auror Tonks some field experience. It was difficult to argue with his boss's decision. They were at peace and had been for more than ten years. Harry Potter was a high-priority target, but it was a shopping trip in the middle of the day in the most-populated place in Wizarding Britain. Protection was, of course, necessary, but most certainly unneeded. The only counter-argument Moody could make was that he didn't go into the field with unreliable teammates. But Moody was a soldier first, and he took his orders.

Tonks resumed a regular pace as soon as the door to the Leaky Cauldron closed. She knew she was going to pay for that slap. Her muscles already ached at the thought of the amount of push-ups, chin-ups, and laps she will have to do, but it was worth it. Moody was a grumpy git and sometimes grumpy gits just have to be slapped.

She ducked into an alley a few buildings down, which was empty except for a few stinking dumpsters and a car, and wondered if she had time for a cigarette. She flicked her wand to establish a ward and then flicked it again to check the time. Moody would skin her alive, but he was already going to do that. Besides, Weasleys are always late. She should know. She lit a cigarette with her wand and leaned against the brick wall behind her. She could still be in bed, or on the beach, instead of downtown London to babysit some speccy kid. But no, bloody Scrimgeour decided she needed 'proper field experience'. She snorted out a plume of smoke. Following Harry Potter around wasn't proper field experience, it was a national obsession.

But, she thought as she span her cigarette between her fingers and watched the thin silver smoke, she was an Auror, and Aurors take this sort of thing seriously. She sighed and resolved not to think about her job until she finished her cigarette, and cast her eyes around the alley for a distraction. She then properly noticed the car. She did not usually notice cars. She was a witch, after all, despite her father being raised in the mundane world. The only thing she knew about cars is not to be in their way when they're making noise. This one was not making noise, but she did notice it, because it was undeniably beautiful.

Nymphadora Tonks didn't know it at the time, but she was looking at a 1978 Pontiac Firebird Trans-Am V8, a classic of American muscle. It was painted a strange, pale grey with a maroon phoenix decal on the hood. She cast admiring glances at the car through her smoke, wondering if it was one of the cars she heard racing at 2 am from her flat. She knew, as something resembling an officer of the law, that she couldn't condone such illegal and dangerous activity, but for the first time she wondered what it would be like to be a part of one of those races.

Her cigarette dwindled to its butt and she flicked it away. Tonks cracked her knuckles, squared her shoulders, and put on her game face. For her, this was not a metaphor. As stated before, Tonks was a metamorphmagus, a magical person who can change their appearance at will. Metamorphmagi are not especially rare in the magic world, but the extents of most are in altering the shade or tint of their hair or eyes. One of Tonks' evil aunts changed her hair from black to blonde when she got married. Tonks was on another level, though. She could change the colour, length, and texture of her hair to almost anything she could imagine. She could change the elasticity and colour of her skin, the shape of her nose and ears and lips, and move the fat around her body to where ever she wanted. She could even affect her bone structure to a small extent, mostly to adjust her facial structure.

A few moments later, a mousy middle-aged witch in dowdy brown robes stood in the alley admiring herself in a hand mirror. Tonks smirked, she had her limits, but between her talents, transfiguration, and a few acting lessons, she could effectively disguise herself completely in less than thirty seconds. She dropped the smirk and put away her mirror, then stooped herself slightly and started to shuffle back to the Leaky Cauldron.

She entered the pub and blinked her eyes owlishly as she scanned the dim room. It was a blessing of her shape shifting that her eyes automatically adjusted to the light almost instantly and she had exceptional night vision. There had been no change to the room since she left a few minutes previously except for a slight change-up of the clientele. Moody was still at the bar, nursing his whiskey with his back to the room. She gave him an almost-imperceptible nod and toddled over to a free table close to the mercifully unlit fireplace. Every few minutes there would be a burst of heatless green flame and a witch or wizard would step out. Tonks positioned herself so the fireplace was in her periphery and picked up the complimentary Daily Prophet from the table.

Tom – the landlord, bartender, waiter, and cook of the Leaky Cauldron and most certainly not human – came by to take her order of a pot of Earl Grey tea. Tonks hated Earl Grey, but Abigail O'Connor nee Lovelace – as she decided her disguise was named – loved it. It brought her back to when she was falling in love with her beloved Aidan. Poor man, he died trying to prevent a Death Eater attack on a muggle orphanage.

Tonks pushed away thoughts of her tragically fictitious late husband and started to read the paper, while watching the fireplace. She was part way through an article about Greek wizards encroaching on historical Mermish territory when she heard a woman at the table next to her.

"What time are they supposed to get here?" the woman asked.

"I told you," a man replied. "I don't know."

The exchange caught Tonks' interest – most people waiting for someone know when that person will arrive. Tonks chanced a glance and saw a man and a woman, both looking like they were in their mid-twenties. The man was wearing a tight, white t-shirt and had black hair. The woman had white-blonde hair and was wearing light grey robes. Tonks quickly moved her eyes back to the paper.

"Because we've been here for an hour," the woman said.

"I am aware," the man said. Tonks quickly resculpted her ear to better hear whatever conversation these two were having, but they didn't speak for a few minutes. Tonks finished the article and almost flipped to the quidditch section before she remembered, with an internal sigh, that Abigail likes gardening instead, and decided to close the paper instead.

"Harry," the woman at the next table said in a low voice. Tonks had to keep herself from reacting and instead shifted in her seat so she had a better angle to see the table. The man, who apparently shared a name with the saviour of the wizarding world, glared at the woman. "We should go over the plan."

Tonks forced herself to take a calm sip of her awful tea. While before these two were interesting, now they were suspicious. The man, or Harry, was slim, but he definitely had some muscle to him. He had sharp, wary, grey eyes that locked onto Tonks' for a moment. He reached for his lager and she noticed a tattoo on his left inner forearm, but Tonks couldn't make out the design other than it being dark. The as of yet unnamed woman was an inch or two shorter than Harry, which would give her a few inches on Tonks. Her blonde hair was slightly teased and fell her to chin, framing her pretty face which betrayed no emotion, though her coffee cup was shaking when she picked it up.

"The plan is fine," Harry replied in an equally low voice. "Just... calm down."

The woman scoffed. "Easy for you to say," she said. "I've never done anything like this before."

"I can tell," Harry replied with an edge of steel in his voice, which he seemed to immediately regret. "Look, it's a simple op, just don't overcomplicate things." Tonks took another sip of her tea. The man was talking like an operative, but if they were on a mission, they were being incredibly sloppy. Still, the man talked about an operation – he was now number one of Tonks' list of suspicious characters.

She was kept from further observations on her strange neighbours when the fireplace burst, once again, into green flame and disgorged a large gaggle of redheads. It was the Weasley family and Tonks was glad she was in disguise. Mrs. Weasley had never forgiven her for breaking her little boy's heart. Tonks' breath of relief caught in her throat, however, when she noticed there was not a black hair among the cluster of read. The Weasleys were looking around the room in a panic and Tonks knew the greatest fear of the Wizarding World had been realized – Harry Potter was missing.

Tonks moved towards the back door immediately. The Weasleys, plus Harry Potter, were supposed to arrive by Floo, which is a network of connected fireplaces that can be traversed by green flame created by Floo Powder. Tonks knew that if Potter had made a mistake, and his disappearance wasn't because of enemy action, that he would be in the next public fireplace down the line. Unfortunately, the next public fireplace was in Borgin & Burke's, an antique store specializing in dark artifacts in the crime-infested Knockturn Alley. For the saviour of the wizarding world to be stranded there was tantamount to a death sentence for the poor boy.

As she was leaving, Tonks glanced back at the table next to her and cursed when she saw the man had left at some point. She adjusted her path so she could walk by Moody, who was still leaning on the bar, apparently unaffected by the Weasley's drama.

"Blonde woman, grey robes, 7 o'clock," she said under her breath as she passed by her superior and continued out the back door.

Mercifully, the back alley was empty so Tonks could change into a new disguise – Abigail O'Connor would never go into Knockturn Alley. A few moments later an old toothless hag stood unnaturally straight as her robes changed from brown to black. Satisfied, Tonks tapped the pattern on the bricks on the back wall. Suddenly, the bricks melted away revealing the arched entrance to Diagon Alley.

As stated before, Diagon Alley is the commercial center of Magical Britain. There were probably a hundred shops squeezed in the street which sold everything from crystal balls, to owls and toads, to magic wands. Anything and everything a wizard would want could be found in the Alley, provided it was legal. For the illegal stuff, one would have to go to Knockturn.

She ignored the regular onslaught to her senses that was Diagon Alley and hurried in a limping gait to the entrance of its evil mirror, Knockturn Alley. She tried to forget the rumours of what happens to Aurors without backup down there and limped her way down towards Borgin & Burke's. As opposed to Diagon's wide lane, Knockturn twisted and turned in on itself like a maze full of dark shadows and looming presences. In front of her, Tonks saw a tall broad shouldered man with long blonde hair walking with what seemed to be a child. She cursed again, the man was obviously Lucius Malfoy, a prominent business man, politician, philanthropist and war criminal. While he bought his way out of jail time through the corruption rampant in the Ministry of Magic, Malfoy was a very dangerous man and, as he was technically family, knew all about Tonks' talents and career aspirations. If anyone could figure out her disguise, it would be the man in front of her. She only hoped that she could avoid interacting with Malfoy and the boy she now recognized as his whelp.

But, of course, the Malfoys entered Borgin & Burke's, the one place she did not want them to be. She approached the store after the door closed and looked in through the window, pretending to window shop. She immediately saw the Malfoys at the counter talking to Mr. Burke, another scumbag if she ever knew one. She looked around the shop and her eyes widened when she saw Potter climbing into a vanishing cabinet. Luckily, the idiot child didn't close the door, which would have activated the artifact and sent him who knows where.

Tonks didn't know what to do. Her ward was surrounded by dark artifacts and on the other side of two former Death Eaters, one of whom could easily determine her identity. This was an absolute nightmare. The moments ticked by as she watched the interior of the store, trying to determine the best way to drag Potter out. Thankfully, luck was on her side as the Malfoy's left the store and Burke returned to the back room, and Potter could safely escape the store unaccosted.

Tonks appreciated the moment of seeing the Harry Potter for the first time, but she was disappointed. The kid was tiny, with incredibly baggy clothes and his broken glasses in his fist. She wondered how she could guide him back to Diagon without giving away her identity or terrifying the kid, but was saved from doing much when she saw the giant form of Rubeus Hagrid, Gamekeeper of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry emerge from the store next door. Hagrid was good people and would make sure Potter was safe. Her job was done.

Or it would be, if either of the two infuriating males in front of her would see each other. Alas, as chance would have it, Potter was apparently so blind without his glasses that he couldn't see the giant in front of him and Hagrid got caught up in an argument with the keeper of the shop he had just left. Tonks sighed and quickly tried to figure out a way to get these two talking. She grabbed a nearby tray of what looked like whole human fingernails – props are essential for any disguise – and snuck over to the other side of Potter.

"Not lost are you, my dear?" she asked in a croaking voice, followed by a cackle. She might have overdone it a bit, but it worked. Potter jumped away from her, she felt slightly bad for the fear in his eyes, and right into Hagrid's back.

Hagrid then turned around and saw Potter. "Blimey, Harry!" he said and roughly picked up the boy. Tonks slipped away and watched the two of them talk. Within a few seconds Hagrid had grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him off towards Diagon. Tonks let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. The crisis had passed, Potter was found, and soon she'd go back to being bored.

She followed them as the hag until they entered Diagon, at which point she ducked into a nearby alcove and changed herself up. Her hair lost its dryness but stayed white, her teeth regrew, and her skin tightened up a bit, erasing many of the wrinkles she had before. A confident and imperious woman who appeared to be anything from fifty to seventy years old emerged from the alcove and saw Moody perusing a stall close to the reunion of Potter and the Weasleys. She walked straight up to him and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Hello honey," she said and rolled her eyes at Moody's grimace. He really was the worst at undercover work. Moody quickly put up wards so they could talk.

"Any trouble?" he asked.

"Malfoy entered the store before I could," Tonks admitted. "But I had eyes on Potter the whole time. Kid's smart, he hid to avoid Malfoy and his spawn."

Moody nodded. "I saw them leave Knockturn," he said. "Anything I should know about?" Tonks shook her head. "Good, now tell me about our blonde friend." He nodded to the side, and Tonks followed it to see the blonde woman from the Leaky Cauldron trying hard to look like she wasn't looking at the Weasleys.

"I'm not sure, sir," Tonks said. "She and a man were discussing a 'plan' at the Cauldron. The man referred to it as an 'op'. He disappeared when the Weasleys arrived."

"Well, blondie is definitely watching the Weasleys," Moody said. "Tell me about the man."

"Goes by Harry, apparently. Similar age, maybe 5'10", black hair and a white t-shirt," Tonks rattled off. "Oh, and a tattoo on the inside of his left arm."

Moody sucked in a sudden breath. "The Dark Mark?" Moody asked. The Dark Mark was a tattoo that was branded on all Death Eaters by their evil leader, Lord Voldemort. Incidentally, it was Voldemort that Harry Potter defeated as a baby, thus making Potter the savior of the wizarding world, but of course you know all about that.

Tonks shook her head. "Couldn't be," she said. "He's too young to be a Death Eater."

Moody snorted. "Appearances can be deceiving, _honey_," he said. "Constant vigilance, lass."

Tonks tried not to bristle at Moody's dismissal. "So, what now, boss?" she asked.

"We do the job," he said. "But keep an eye out for our new friends." Tonks nodded and together they watched the Weasleys go into Gringott's Bank. They didn't follow. There was only one entrance for humans and the goblins that ran the place ran a tight ship. Besides, thanks to certain treaties, Aurors were not allowed to enter the property while on the job. When the Weasleys returned, the large group split into several smaller ones.

Moody audibly growled at this development. "I'm going to have a chat with Arthur after this," he said and looked down at Tonks. "We follow the primary." Tonks nodded and, arm in arm, they followed Harry Potter and two of his little friends around Diagon Alley.

Tonks regretted the decision to take this mission almost immediately. Back-to-school shopping was the worst, and watching someone else do back-to-school shopping must be something straight out of hell, even if that person is a celebrity.

Eventually, the various shopping parties reconvened at Flourish & Blott's, the book store. Moody groaned when he saw the sign outside advertising a signing, that day, with celebrity author Gilderoy Lockhart and then the crowd inside that would quickly swallow up their ward. Tonks briefly regretted her choice of disguise as Moody's wife as she contemplated seducing Lockhart. Sure, the man was an idiot and most probably a fraud, but he was also hot.

"We have to go in," Moody said and Tonks nodded. It wasn't ideal, but the crowd was too much for them to be able to protect Potter from outside. "You watch the boy, I'll keep lookout."

They entered the store and attempted to navigate the crowd while staying together and watching Potter. A long line of post-menopausal women snaked around the bursting shelves from the table at the front where Gilderoy Lockhart stood beside a marquee of himself smiling and waving.

"The man just entered," Moody growled in Tonks' ear. "Under an invisibility cloak. Blondie's at the back door." Tonks swallowed nervously as she confirmed Moody's spotting of the woman. Who the hell were these people and how do they have an invisibility cloak? Invisibility cloaks were not only heavily regulated, but incredibly difficult to enchant and almost prohibitively expensive.

Tonks decided, instead, to focus on the mission and turned back to Potter, who was now staring straight ahead and frozen in place. Tonks followed his eye line and saw it was straight at Lockhart, who was staring back in equal shock, but a wide grin was appearing on the older man's face. Tonks had a bad feeling about this.

Lockhart jumped to his feet and shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter!?"

The crowd between the two parted as if by magic and Harry was dragged to the front by Lockhart's pushy photographer. Tonks stepped forward and started to draw her wand, but Moody held her back by the wrist.

"He's safe for now," Moody said quietly. "Blondie's friend is back by the Weasley girl and the Malfoys are skulking by the door, but Blondie has a clear shot at the table, get in her way."

Tonks nodded and started elbowing through the crowd to try and get between the blonde woman and the two celebrities. The blonde woman, for her part, was starting to look nervous – her eyes darted around the store and her fingers were playing with one of the many charms that hung from her wrists and throat. However, the woman's attention was not on the two celebrities having their photo opportunity, but she was looking back towards the Weasley parents towards the entrance. Nonetheless, Tonks watched the woman with her hand a bare centimeter away from her wand.

But nothing happened. Potter and Lockhart took some pictures and Potter got some free books. Potter was sent back to the crowd and Lockhart soaked up the adulation of the crowd. Tonks let out a relieved sigh that Potter was out of the danger zone, but she noticed the blonde woman had not moved at all. Tonks turned to return to Moody's side and found herself face to face with another woman – this one a stranger of about thirty with brown hair.

"Excuse me, ma'am," the woman said. "But I think you should know something about your husband."

Tonks blinked and glanced at where Moody was standing. "What's that?" she asked.

"I don't know the details, but I saw your husband speaking with a young witch at the Cauldron," the woman said and it took everything Tonks had not to giggle. "The witch slapped him and called him a pervert before storming out."

Tonks bit the inside of her cheek and took a deep breath. "Thank you for –" she started, but was cut off by a commotion at the front of the store. She turned to see what looked like Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy having a fist fight. She started to step forward to try and break it up when she saw Hagrid there, pulling the combatants apart.

Tonks watched from behind the crowd as Malfoy said a few more words to the gathered Weasleys, twirled his cape, and left. She rolled her eyes – the man acted like a cartoon villain. It disgusted her that she was related to him, even if only through marriage.

There was a thud, a groan, and a scream. Tonks whipped around to see Lockhart groggily lift his head from the table, his once handsome face bloody from a broken nose and a few of his prize-winning teeth scattered across the table. Tonks turned and saw the blonde woman still standing by the back entrance. However, her hands, once holding a wand, were over her mouth in shock and her eyes were wide.

Tonks pulled out her own wand and pushed towards the blonde woman. "Hey, you!" she called. "Freeze! Aurors!" This snapped the woman out of her daze and she turned and fled the shop. "Fuck," Tonks said and turned to Moody. Moody nodded at her to chase the suspect.

Tonks tore out of the store, her body automatically reverting to a form better suited for athletics, and bumped into several stacked boxes which then fell on her. Tonks grumbled and pushed herself to her feet in time to see the heel of the woman. She sprinted after her, thankful for her physical conditioning and somewhat giddy that she was actually involved in a chase through the back alleys of Diagon.

This brief flare of excitement was quickly snuffed when Tonks caught up with the blonde woman in just a few seconds. The blonde woman was breathing heavily and leaning against the wall.

"Alright," Tonks said as she approached the woman. "Let's try this again. Freeze. Aurors. Keep your hands where I can see them."

The woman tried to control her panting as she raised her arms. "Fine," she said out loud, and then under her laboured breath said, "Circe, I'm in bad shape."

"Where's your friend?" Tonks asked and kept her wand trained on the young woman in front of her.

The woman's eyes widened. "What friend?" she asked.

"The man from the Cauldron with the invisibility cloak," Tonks said. "Harry."

"Right here," Harry said from beside her. Tonks kept her wand on the woman but turned to look at him. He had his wand out and pointed at her. He was standing in a relaxed dueling stance she recognized from her training. "Alright there, Sam?"

"Never better," the woman, or Sam, replied. "It's not like you lied to me or anything."

"I didn't lie," Harry said.

"You said Lockhart wears a wig!" Sam said.

"Lockhart does wear a wig," Harry said.

"Then how come when I summoned it, it didn't come off?" Sam asked.

"Blighter must have put a sticking charm on it," Harry said and rubbed his chin. "Probably to prevent exactly what we planned."

"Instead, he has a broken nose," Sam said. Harry laughed out loud. Tonks took the opportunity to better examine Harry - he was strangely pale with intense grey eyes. Tonks' eyes darted to his left arm and she relaxed slightly when she saw he did not have the Dark Mark. The tattoo was of a crimson phoenix, and the design looked familiar.

"Excuse me," Tonks said. The two of them looked back at her. "I'm afraid you're both under arrest. You'll have to come with me."

"Come on," Harry said. "It was a harmless joke."

"It harmed Lockhart," Tonks said. "That's assault. In addition, you are currently threatening an Auror."

Harry glanced down at his wand. "Pointing a wand at someone isn't really a threat," he said. Tonks was about to argue the point but he continued. "Besides, I have to make sure you don't harm my dear Sam here."

"Bite me, Harry," Sam said.

"Also," Harry said. "Your back-up is going to be here any moment and I'd rather have some leverage in that situation."

"Leverage?" Sam asked, apparently she was just as confused as Tonks. "What are you doing?"

"Well, thanks to you, our original plan is shot-" Harry said and Sam narrowed her icy blue eyes in response.

"The plan was not supposed to involve assault," Sam said. "Or me outrunning an Auror."

"An Auror who knows my name, apparently," Harry said and glared at Sam. "I wonder how she figured that one out, Sam."

"I'm right here!" Tonks protested. "And, if you don't mind, please surrender your wands to me and I'll take you into the Office." Sam and Harry looked at each other, seemingly having a mental conversation Tonks couldn't parse. Tonks cleared her throat. "I'll give you to the count of three. One. Two –"

Harry's wand moved faster than Tonks could imagine, but she could have sworn she cast a shield before the binding hex hit her. She found herself wrapped tightly in ropes from her neck down to her feet. She kept her balance for a moment before she fell awkwardly to the ground.

"Sorry about that, Auror," Harry said with a bit of cheek. "But we really don't have time to be arrested."

Tonks writhed and wriggled in her bindings. "You son of a bitch! Get me out of here!" she yelled.

"Great," Sam said as she stepped over Tonks' prone form. "Now what do we do with her?"

"We should take off now," Harry said and scratched the back of his head. "Do you think she'll be safe?"

Sam levelled an even stare at Harry. "We are not leaving an innocent woman tied up in a back alley," she said.

"Fine, we'll wait for her backup and incapacitate them too, then figure this out," Harry said. Tonks followed this conversation while struggling in her bounds. She was glad these two didn't seem about to harm her, but other than that her situation was far from ideal.

She knew that even after Moody rescues her, she will never live this down. Moody will bring up the fact she was incapacitated by a random suspect for the rest of her training, if not the rest of her career. Still, she wasn't worried. Moody was the best Auror they had. Once he took care of the primary objective – protecting Harry Potter – he would come back and kick this git's ass.

Suddenly, Tonks felt herself being pulled down the alley by an invisible force. She craned her neck and grinned to see Mad-Eye Moody flourishing his wand in a wide arc. Purple flames spewed from the tip and impacted a glowing white shield that protected Harry and Sam. Her bindings loosened around her as the hex was lifted and she struggled to her feet.

"Wotcher, Moody," she breathed out as she leveled her wand at Harry and Sam.

"Alright there, lass?" Moody asked. Tonks shrugged and noticed Harry's eyes widen and his wand falter a bit.

"Tonks?" he asked, his voice shaking a bit. "Moody?"

Tonks and Moody glanced sidelong at each other while Sam's eyes widened like Harry's did. "You know us?" Moody asked.

Harry's lips tightened and he didn't respond for a moment. "No," he said and shook his head. His voice was softer than it was before. "Only by reputation." He lowered his wand and relaxed out of his fighting stance. "I am very sorry, Auror Tonks, for hexing you, but you must understand, we don't have time to be incarcerated."

"Then you shouldn't have broken the law," Moody growled and cast a volley of stunning spells at Sam and Harry. Harry waved his wand and a shield materialized to absorb them all.

"We just wanted to steal a wig," Sam interjected. "I'm sorry I hurt Lockhart, but he's probably already healed. _Episkey_ is taught in what? Fifth year?"

"What about that book you lifted from the Weasley girl?" Moody asked. Tonks glanced at him in surprise, trying to piece together the scene.

"I don't know-" Harry started, then his eyes widened again. "Wait. Hold up." He looked at Sam.

Sam looked back at him with a calculated gleam. "His eye?" she asked. Harry nodded.

"I forgot, but it must mean something," Harry said and turned back to the two Aurors. "Auror Moody, I realize we met under less than ideal circumstances, but we really must talk to you soon."

"About my eye?" Moody asked and Harry nodded. "I don't talk about my eye, especially not to criminals."

"We understand the extra-judicial aspect of our actions today," Sam said. "But trust me when I say there is a lot more going on than you think."

Harry stepped forward. "My name is Hercules Black and this is Samantha Clover," he said. Tonks raised her eyebrows. "Despite our actions, we are on the same side."

Moody stared at Harry and Sam, then barked at Tonks, "Trainee Auror Tonks, do you know of any Hercules Black?"

Tonks smirked. Her mother was born Andromeda Black and the Blacks were one of the most prominent families in Magical Britain, or at least they were before the war with Voldemort. Tonks' mother was kicked out of the family, but she still taught her daughter about her family. Tonks had had the family tree memorized since she was seven.

"No sir," Tonks replied, somewhat vindictively. "There is no Hercules Black in _my _family." Tonks usually didn't associate herself with the Black side of her heritage, but she made an exception here to catch this irritating man in an obvious lie.

Harry's jaw dropped for a moment before he gathered himself and Sam pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm technically adopted," he said.

"Merlin, you're dumb," Sam said.

"This is your fault," Harry replied.

"Mr. Black," Moody said and Harry looked at him again. "What did you mean when you said 'our side'?"

"The side against the dark," Harry said simply. "More specifically, against Voldemort." Tonks really tried not to, but she shuddered at hearing the name. Most wizards use euphemisms to refer to the dark wizard in regular conversation. She noticed she was the only one who did, but she couldn't help it. She was a little girl during the dark days of the war, before Harry Potter saved them all.

Tonks remembered the fear in her parents' faces with every new attack and rumour. She remembered cancelled play dates because they couldn't trust certain people anymore, or because the family died. She remembered being told to hide under her bed when her wicked aunts visited unannounced to threaten her blood traitor mother and mudblood father.

"You-know-who's been dead for eleven years," Tonks said. Harry rolled his eyes and Sam scoffed.

"Do you really believe that, Auror Tonks?" Sam asked. Tonks tried to affirm her statement, but found she could not.

In the years since the war, Voldemort had evolved from a very real physical threat to a sort of bogeyman lurking on the edges of Magical Britain's subconscious. People were still afraid of him, but it was a vague fear for dark shadows and moonless nights. A part of Tonks always sort of believed Voldemort was still out there, biding his time and building his strength, but she never dared express that sentiment, somewhat afraid that by speaking of him, he would manifest himself.

"And how does stealing a book from a little girl help fight Voldemort?" Moody asked drily. Tonks shuddered again.

"It's actually a diary-" Harry began.

"You stole a little girl's diary?" Tonks asked. "And you're trying to tell us you're the good guys?"

"Like I said, there's a lot going on," Sam said. "And none of us have time to go into it now."

Tonks frowned. "What does that mean?" she asked.

"I have a feeling you're about to be very busy," Sam said with a smirk. Tonks took a step forward.

"What are you planning?" she asked.

"Oh, many things," Harry said with a laugh and pointed at Moody. "But you, sir, are very important."

Tonks had, perhaps foolishly, dismissed the idea of Harry and Sam being dark wizards after they refused to leave her tied up in an alley. As she glanced at Moody for direction, she considered the notion that while they aren't dark, they could very well be crazy and were most certainly dangerous.

She didn't have a lot of time to follow this line of thought as a silver orb of light descended into the alley and transformed into a bear. The bear opened its mouth and spoke in the voice of the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, Madame Amelia Bones.

"Moody! Report to base immediately!" Bones barked out. Tonks looked at Harry and saw a smirk she remembered from her childhood – one she saw on the face of her demented cousin countless times, a playful smirk if you don't know what's behind it. For the first time, she considered the idea that Harry was a Black. "This is a Code Phoenix!"

Before Tonks could remember what a Code Phoenix was, her world exploded in sound and light. As an automatic reflex, she dropped to the ground, screwed her eyes tight, and clapped her hands over her ears. Then, just as suddenly, the world cleared. Harry and Sam had left, and Moody was also on the ground, one of his legs still standing beside him, severed at the knee. Tonks crawled rapidly over to him.

"Oh gods, oh gods," she mumbled as she tried to apply pressure to Moody's stump, but the older Auror just pushed her away.

"It's my metal leg, you daft biddy," he growled. Tonks decided to ignore the sexism at the moment while she considered what happened. Tonks knew herself how tough Moody's fake leg was thanks to a panoply of enchantments and charms combined with good old British steelwork. It was a rite of passage for Trainee Aurors to attempt to break it with magic. Before Hercules Black, no one had even nicked the thing.

"Who is this guy?" Tonks asked, mostly to herself. Moody waved his wand and transfigured a nearby garbage can into a crutch to haul himself to his foot. He picked up his metal leg.

"We'll find him," he said. "I'm going back to base, you secure the scene at Flourish & Blott's." It took Tonks a moment to remember that Lockhart had been attacked minutes earlier.

"Sir?" Tonks asked as Moody turned to leave. He grunted. "What's a Code Phoenix?"

Moody raised his chin but didn't turn around. If Tonks didn't know better, she would think he was staring off a thousand yards away, mind lost to a million thoughts that blinded him as effectively as fog would, but this was Mad-Eye Moody. He was too paranoid to lost to anyone, even his own mind.

"Resurrection," Moody said and disappeared in a swirl of colour, leaving Tonks alone in the dusty alley. Despite the heat, she shivered.

* * *

Wow, this Hercules Black guy sure is cool. I wonder what his deal is?

So there's this idea with writing, and most endeavours, that's called 'kill your darlings'. The basic idea is that while writing and developing ideas, writers usually latch onto certain concepts or characters for whatever reason. Of course, what is personally appealing to a creator is not what is best for the creation, so writers should be conscious of this, and always be prepared to cut aspects that aren't working, regardless of how much we like them.

To be honest, I never really got this. Most of what I write is for myself first, so if it appeals to me, then it should be in my work.

Then I started to work on this story, and man a whole lot of darlings got killed. There was a huge part of this story that changed completely which I can't talk about yet, but specific to this chapter there were two things I wanted that didn't fit. First, Harry was going to say he's from British Columbia, which would set up another joke next chapter about Dumbledore snowblading. I liked it, but it didn't work. Second, to get the diary was going to be a huge heist during a Malfoy charity event which would involve both Harry and Sam seducing Narcissa Malfoy. I like stories where Lucius Malfoy gets cucked, but then I realized it would be a lot easier to steal the diary from Ginny.

Also, this isn't a time-travel story. It's a story that involves time-travel. I'll be getting away from that in upcoming chapters.

UPDATE: I edited this slightly.


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